


listen here, bud

by doofusface



Series: cinq et un [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Best Friends, Character Study, Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Illnesses, Injury, Voicemail, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 19:26:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14291784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doofusface/pseuds/doofusface
Summary: Five times MJ lets Ned's calls go to voicemail, and one time she picks up.





	listen here, bud

**Author's Note:**

> here's to telling friends you love them, because that's important

 

**_the flu_ **

MJ rolls on her bed, body stiff from sleeping in the same position for what has probably been seventeen hours.

She feels like _death_.

Her copy of _1984_ is still on the floor, two feet away from her bed, a tell-tale sign of her parents not coming in to wake her from her slumber. She reaches for it with her foot, refusing to leave the confines of her blanket completely.

Why is it _so cold_?

Oh.

Haha.

Cold.

‘Cause she _has_ a cold.

Ha _ha_ ha.

 _1984_ slides into reach, but she opts to pick it up with her toes, because her brain has just decided that opposable thumbs are for the weak-willed, and her big toe is the Elite Extremity.

(Everything hurts and she wants to die.)

“ _Aha_ ,” she mumbles victoriously, snot-nosed and phlegm-filled. The book is now beside her, where it ought to be. “‘ake tha’, thum’s!”

She turns to gloat at Ned and Peter. “ _Heh_ , wook who’s Spi’er-ma’, no—”

Oh. Right.

They’re at school.

 _Lame_ , she thinks.

It’s weird how having friends has changed her.

Now she _wants_ to talk about her day. Tell jokes. Share books.

It’s jarring, but in the best way.

MJ grabs her phone, intending to check the time, but is greeted by five missed calls from Peter and one from Ned.

(If her chest is constricting from that first thing, it’s only the virus talking.)

...Ned’s the only one who leaves a voicemail.

“ _Hey, MJ, it’s Ned! Obviously. Um. Juuuust. Checking up. How’s the flu? You feeling better? If you want, Peter and I could—_ OW _—I could bring you some arroz caldo! But without the chicken. So really just arroz. With ginger. Um._ ” Something shuffles in the background, and MJ hears Peter’s undeniable _yelp_ because of... _something_.

Ned gets back to the mic. “ _Anyway, feel better! I have your homework. I can email it if you want, but—_ ” his voice drops to a whisper, “ _—Peter actually really wants an excuse to visit, so you should text him to bring it ov—Heeeeeey, Pete! Buddy! Best friend! Okay,byeMJloveyougetbettertalktoyousoon_.”

_Click._

It might be the flu talking, or the questionable amount of medicine in her body, but she’s feeling _fuzzy_.

 _I don’t deserve them_ , she thinks, texting her parents for food.

_But I’m really glad they’re here._

_**the project** _

" _Yo MJ, Peter’s been asking if you’re good with the trig project? I don’t know why he won’t ask you himself—oh, wait, I do—but anyway, if you could text him and ask him out that would be great._ ”

MJ chokes on her water.

“ _Just kidding. Or am I? But, yeah, trig—let him know, or me, so I can tell him. Even though you’re with us 99% of the time anyway. See ya at school!_ ”

She’s probably going to kill him, but not until after they finish their final projects for the semester. No point in causing distress in an already distressing season.

She dials _arachne’s son_ on her phone.

“ _Hey, MJ!_ ”

And, because she’s feeling generous: “You wanna go get lunch later?”

“ _Um_ — _yeah, I would, but I’m upstate today._ ”

Let the universe tell Ned she tried. “Bummer. And the trig thing looks okay to me.”

“ _Nice! I’ll get started on my half tonight_.”

“When are we working on it?”

“ _Tomorrow afternoon good?_ ”

“Bar supervillain attacks?”

Peter laughs. “ _Yeah._ ”

“Cool. I’ll prep here.”

“ _Got it._ ”

“And Peter?”

He hums in response.

“Stop making Ned do stuff for you.”

He laughs awkwardly. “ _Busted. I’ll talk to you later, Vision’s about to start class._ ”

“Computer science?”

“ _Ha-ha. Funny. No. But he’s kinda judging me right now, IgottagoOWokaybye,seeyoutomorrow._ ”

_**the city** _

It was not a good day to for her to leave her phone at home.

Not a good day to forget her comms, either.

Not a good day overall, really, when you consider the whole _Lizard rampaging through Union Square and Gramercy_ thing like the insult to reptile-enthusiasts that he is.

Why’d she commute on a Sunday, anyway? She usually stayed home, unless she needed to go to a protest. _And_ she was supposed to meet Peter later today for their project. Bad call, pun intended.

Besides, the $2.50 one-way was _so_ not worth getting shipped off to a hospital.

 _“MJ, pick up—pickuppickuppickup, please pick up—MJ, there’s a big scary dude heading downtown, please pick up!_ ”

The sound gets muffled, and she hears another voice join in with Ned's.

Peter’s.

He’s running, Ned’s voice shouting _Go, dude!_ in the background.

“ _MJ, I won’t make it there in time, but I’m trying, okay? Please pick up. Pleasepleaseplease, I need you to pick up—you gotta get Union Square cleared out, okay? I believe in you, please_ please _pick_ up _pickup,_ Iloveyou, _don'tforget—_ _pickup,MJ,please—_ ”

The message continues with a _thwip_ , and a short _clatter_ as she imagines the phone gets webbed to a nearby building.

It ends with the familiar _fizzle_ of the anti-web formula, and Ned’s strained voice back at it: “ _MJ, c’mon, pick up! Please!_ ”

 _Sorry_ , she thinks, as Ned replays every voicemail saved on her phone for the past year and a half by her ear for the second time today.

Or is it tomorrow?

...Next week?

Time is vague, and the darkness is constant.

Sometimes someone from AcaDec stops by and plays a recorded message for her, and it’s another push in the right direction.

Sometimes it’s her mom, singing a lullaby she hasn’t heard since she was five, before her mom’s second job stole her away to more hours and less time with her only child.

She’s still not _awake_ , per se, but she can hear them. It’s annoying more than anything, because sometimes she hears her mom crying, or May.

Or Ned.

She made _Ned_ cry.

What kind of jerk move is that?

Like, okay, Peter’s been crying and whispering things to her, too, but he’s always crying anyway.

But Ned?

Shame on her, making the world’s brightest light cry on her hospital bed because she won’t _wake up_.

 _I’m really sorry,_ she thinks again, for the nth time in this eternal cycle of zoning in and out of the faint darkness. _Don’t worry about me, I’m fine_.

* * *

 _...I’m fine, aren’t I?_ she wonders, trying to scrunch up her face. _I’ll see them again, right?_

She must’ve visibly moved, because she feels a calloused finger smooth over her brows.

“Hey, MJ—it’s okay, it’s Peter. It’s okay, I’m right here,” he whispers, lower than usual. “Ned’s taking a nap—I don’t think you can hear him snoring, it's pretty soft. Your mom’s at work. The team’s gonna come by tomorrow after practice. Even Flash.”

 _That’s new_.

“Weird, right? If you wake up now, he won’t have to.”

_That’s cute._

“Is it bad that I’m trying to bribe you to wake up with not seeing Flash?”

 _A little. But I appreciate it_.

She hears him sniffling again, and yes, she would like to wake up.

“Sorry,” Peter rasps. “I’m trying. I’m really trying. The doctors say you can hear us, so I’m trying not to be a big downer.”

_You’re not. You’re good, Peter. You’re motivation._

“Ned’s doing better.”

_That’s good to hear. Really solid. Give him a high-five for me._

Silence, then, for a few minutes. Silence and beeping from monitors she can’t see but knows are there.

She hears a particularly loud snort from Ned, and wants to laugh—if he’s able to sleep, he’s good. He’s fine.

“I miss you,” Peter whispers abruptly, lower and closer to her ear. “I really, really miss you.”

MJ wants to sigh. The exhausted, post-traumatic experience kind of sigh.

The one they save after a particularly tough fight, when Peter manages to stand up from under the rubble of a burning building, or when he finds a way to keep the subway rails together.

She wants to breath out stress and breath in relief, like fifty million times before.

With Peter.

With Ned.

Just hanging out on someone’s couch, eating food they’ll regret that evening.

She wants to _wake up_.

_I miss you, too._

“I’m right here, MJ,” Peter whispers like a secret. “Always right here.”

She hears scuffling beside her and feels breathing; she realizes he’s made himself cozy by her face.

Likely permanently, until visiting hours are over.

* * *

“You gonna wake up, yet?” Ned asks, trying to laugh.

_What day is it?_

“It’s Tuesday now, by the way. Third Tuesday you've been out.”

_...You were always my fave, Leeds._

“There’s a ton of homework to do. You missed more than two weeks of school. Dunno how you’ll catch up, but I’ll help. And Pete. He’ll help for sure.”

MJ imagines him twiddling his thumbs.

“I— _um_ ,” he starts, and she can hear the threat of tears.

 _Look what you’ve done, Jones. Stop making Ned cry_ _. If you only stayed home—_

“I hope you don’t blame yourself— _sniff_ —you know, like how you think it’s your fault sometimes when Peter gets hurt because you didn’t calculate something right? Or...or when I get something wrong on an English test and you drill me extra hard before the next exam because you think you failed as a study buddy?”

_Oh no. I don’t like this. Leave me alone, Ned. Go cry in a corner or something._

“Yeah, that’s right,” Ned laughs choppily, “I’m gonna make you think about feelings while you can’t escape me. So _ha_.”

_No! Let me wallow! Screw you! I’m in a coma! I should be allowed to wallow a little bit!_

His voice drops, raspy and shaking. “You know, I don’t even know if you’re awake right now. But I hope you are.”

_I wish my body would let me move my arm at least, so I could shove you and your dumb “guilty feelings” talk ten feet away from me. Twenty, even._

“You gotta wake up for us, okay? For your best bud—me. Because I’m cooler than Peter.”

_Good dodge, Leeds. You are welcome once more by my bedside._

“...Don’t tell him I said that. Peter’s awesome.” She imagines him doing that awkward smile of his, the one for _I’m guilty of telling a lie and I’m sorry_. It’s a personal favorite.

_Yeah. But you are too, dude._

He clasps her hand like it’s fragile glass, and she suddenly understands what it’s like to feel helpless.

Because this is what she is right now.

A thinking form stuck in the aether.

Waiting and listening until she can be around people without them treating her like a trampled flower.

“Get better, okay?” Ned says. “You gotta get better.”

 _I’m gonna_ , she thinks. _I got this_.

“You got this.”

**_the light_ **

“ _Hey, you won’t hear this until you get up, but thanks for being a great friend. Seriously. And for putting up with me and Pete. And our, uh, after-school stuff. And for being really cool._ ”

She hears sniffling.

“ _You’re gonna be okay, okay? We’re visiting again, um,_ ” _Sniffle_. “ _We’re going after class today._ ”

_I hate this. I miss my friends._

“ _I don’t even know why I’m leaving this message. I’m the only other person with your phone password. I’m gonna replay it at some point anyway. I’m sorry. I’m still kind of a mess when I have to actually talk about it. Mr. Harrington wanted to get some fund or something going for you, but uh_ — _someone, um, might’ve gotten all your paperwork stuff fixed._ ”

_Tony?_

“ _Someone who really loves that you take care of his accident-prone sidekick when you’re not, like, in a coma_.”

_So Tony._

“ _...Yeah, it’s Tony. I think he’s going crazy from the lack of sarcasm when he calls Pete. Hey, this is a really long message, I wonder if this is gonna cut? No? Wow. StarkPhones, man._ ”

 _This is so funny because you’re literally beside me_ , MJ thinks, because she hears Ned coughing awkwardly at all the dumb things he’s said on the call.

“ _That’s all I got, though. I’ll see ya soon. Peter’s bringing flowers, but don’t tell him I told you. Or do! You should wake up and tell him I told you. It’ll be a fun double-whammy._ ”

 _No one says ‘double-whammy’ anymore, Ned_.

“ _Peace! Love you!_ ”

_Love you too, psycho._

Ned gasps, dropping her phone. “Did—”

“Dude...did you...really...just...drop...my phone…?” MJ ekes out.

Peter hops to the left side of her bed. “MJ?”

 _Blink_. “Why...can I...see?”

“MJ!” he repeats, hugging her carefully. “Hey! You’re up! You’re up, you’re. You’re _up_ ,” he keeps saying as he pulls away, smiling and sighing and sniffling. “I thought you’d try to hit summer for a sec there.”

MJ groans, and Peter furrows his brows in immediate concern.

“What’s wrong? Something hurt?”

She tentatively raises her left hand.

“Your hand?” Peter says, inspecting it. “What is it? The IV?”

It curls into a fist slowly, and Ned laughs heartily before the middle digit can fully rise.

“Aw, that’s great,” Ned says, wiping away tears. From laughter.

What a nice thing to see.

“You’re...stupid,” she croaks out.

Peter frowns at The Finger, but it’s wiped away by the smile he copies from her face. “You’re okay.”

She laughs.

Sort of.

 _Just woke up from a coma_ -learning curve.

“It’s...nice to...be back...with you...two.”

Peter tucks a strand of her hair away and lets his hand stay by her face.

Ned clamps down firmly on her right hand, like a child crossing the street with their parent.

Comfort, it seems, is knowing someone is here to stay.

She grins. "Thanks...for...the flowers."

_**the visits** _

“ _So you’re cleared to go get ice cream, right? There’s a new place we wanna try in the city—don’t laugh, but it’s Spidey-themed—_ ”

“Continue that thought, Leeds,” MJ says, picking up the phone. “But I’m still going to laugh.”

“ _Spider-Man. Ice cream. Upper west. First post on Google._ ”

“What, you think Peter will let me walk outside without a bodyguard?”

“ _Nah, but I think he’s gonna be too busy staring at you to know where he’s going_.”

“Shut up.”

“ _Never!_ ” Ned laughs. “ _Happy release day, MJ!_ ”

“Thanks, Ned.” Then: “Oh—my mom’s already picking the wedding arrangements. What the hell did you tell her about me and Peter?”

“ _Literally nothing. But Pete visited a lot. Like a_ lot _._ ”

“Are you saying _you_ didn’t?”

“ _I did! I was his tail! But like, sometimes I_ really _had to do homework, so he’d swing over for a few minutes_ —”

“—he _what_.”

“ _He’d change once he got to your floor! Don’t worry about it. Your mom doesn’t know. But yeah, he went a lot more, ‘cause a few more minutes a day adds up_.”

 _Curse_.

“ _Exactly._ ”

“I hate you.”

“ _I love you, too._ ”

“See ya later.”

“ _Later!_ ”

_**the call** _

She answers on the fourth _ring_.

“Hey, Ned,” she _yawns_. “Sup?”

“... _Oh._ ”

She cracks one eye open. “...Peter?”

“ _Ned—Ned said you never pick up when he calls—I’m sorry, go um, go back to sleep, I’ll talk to you later—um—_ ”

MJ scrunches up her face, checking the clock on the nightstand.

 _12:03 AM_.

“I hope you aren’t planning on sneaking into my bedroom in the dead of night, Spidey,” she teases, half-awake. “And on a _school night_ , nonetheless.”

“ _Haha. No, I, um—I meant later, at school. I’ll let you sleep._ ”

 _Yawn._ “I’m already up.”

“ _Liar._ ”

“Yeah, a little bit.” Pause. Her voice drops along with her stomach. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages.”

“ _You’ve been out for over a month, so uh…_ ”

“Yeah.”

“ _I should really—I should really let you rest, MJ_.”

“I’ve been resting for five weeks, loser.”

“ _Being in a coma is a liiittle different from resting._ ”

MJ feigns a gasp. “Are you _sassing_ me? Did you start taking over my duties while I was stuck in the hospital?”

“ _1) Yes. 2) No, Ned did. He can copy your glare now._ ”

“I should’ve gotten it trademarked.”

“ _You still do it best_.”

MJ laughs softly. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever told me.”

“ _Heh. It’s true. But you need to sleep, MJ_.”

“What if I wanna stay up and talk? To you?”

“ _Then uh, um—I’d like,_ um _, that—but at least ten people will try to kill me if you’re too exhausted to go to school tomorrow_ ,” Peter responds with thinly-veiled fear.

“Ah...okay.”

“ _...Really?_ ”

“Yeah, I’ll sleep,” she _yawns_. “I was lying, I’m really tired.”

“ _Thanks. Thank you. Sweet dreams, MJ._ ”

“Sweet dreams, loser.”

* * *

“So,” MJ starts, “you told king-nerd that I never pick up when you call?”

Ned gulps. “...Yes.”

“Hurtful.”

“But true.”

“I answer your calls,” she says, brows furrowing. “I answered last night, for instance.”

“You’ve answered every single one since you woke up, actually,” Ned says, smirking.

 _Hmm._ “You baited him?”

“Are you proud of me?”

“A little,” she laughs, hugging him. “Hey, Ned?”

“Yeah?” he mutters, hugging back.

“You’re my fave.”

“I know, MJ.” _Sniffle_. “I missed you.”

“Same, loser,” she says, pulling away and ruffling his hair. “Sorry I made you weep like a baby.”

“...That’s a little over-the-top.”

“It’s accurate. I could hear everything.”

“I...am not even gonna argue,” he says.

“Argue about what?” Peter asks, jogging to them.

“About me still not asking you out,” MJ quips, turning to him.

“ _Uh_ ,” Peter replies, eyes wide.

MJ slips her hand into his and tilts her head. “Dinner? Tomorrow?”

“Tonight might be better,” Ned coughs.

“Fine, _Picky_ ,” she says, squeezing Peter’s hand. “Dinner, tonight?”

“Dinner. Tonight,” Peter repeats, still in shock. He scrunches up his face. “Am I being Punk’d?”

“No, asking someone out as a prank is tactless and beneath me,” MJ says. “Also, I really like you.” She scrunches up her face. “Or I dunno, I might be in love with you. We’ll see.”

If Peter’s eyes could go wider, they would.

“Post-coma MJ is excessive and I _live for it_ ,” Ned nods, rubbing his chin.

 _Riiiiiiiing_.

“That’s my cue,” Ned adds, pointing up. “Have fun at trig, lovebirds!”

“Uh—after you?” Peter stammers, gesturing forward.

“Peter, you can stop looking like a car’s about to hit you, you know.”

“I will in a sec,” he says, looking around at the crowd in the hallway. “When I figure out how I got such a nice, vivid dream.”

“Not a dream.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“I could shank you, but that’s illegal and you’re my friend.”

Peter squints at her. “Are you saying if I weren’t your friend, you’d consider shanking me?”

“I plead the Fifth.”

He squeezes her hand.

MJ laughs. “Nah, dude. You’re too nice. And I don’t like breaking the law unless necessary.”

 _Like aiding a vigilante?_ Peter says with a look.

 _Exactly_ , her smirk replies.

* * *

They make it to trig.

She doesn’t let his hand go.

**Author's Note:**

> weewooweewoo
> 
> my doc file is p much 5+1's and an epilogue/prologue to my love language is stupid so yknow  
> all in all  
> kind of a mess
> 
> ill be at kinda!con this weekend! come say hi if you're in jersey! <3
> 
> hmu in the comments or doofwrites on tumblr aye


End file.
